


Prince Håvard the Great Sheep

by EllieWan



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Gaelic and Norse inaccuracies, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Kuzco - The Emperor's New Groove Fusion, Light Angst, Light-Hearted, M/M, almost, kind of, utopian setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29961747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieWan/pseuds/EllieWan
Summary: Just a Kuzco AU in which Ace is a narcissistic Norse prince who gets accidentally turned into a sheep and falls in love with Thermite, who’s a Gaelic shepherd. Yup.
Relationships: Håvard "Ace" Haugland/Jordan "Thermite" Trace
Comments: 22
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok guys this is going to be utterly cracky and cheesy and Disney-ey, but this is what happens when I play Assassin’s Creed Valhalla and watch Kuzco in the same week. I blame sleep-deprivation and my job for this.
> 
> The story is set in a utopian/uchronic island in the North Sea, during the "Viking era", but it’s not meant to be accurate nor too realistic. However, if you see some major Norse/Gaelic inaccuracies that trouble you, feel free to let me know in the comments and I’ll correct it when possible :)
> 
> \+ Ace will be absolutely detestable and toxic in the first chapter, I'm sorry (this is a real warning)
> 
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

The only legendary thing about the "legendary Rainbow island" was the syncretism and perfect multiculturalism of this small patch of land lost in the North Sea. Formerly used as a stopover for the various Northern peoples on their way to conquer England and Western Europe, it then became the refuge for some Lords who allied with the Viking peoples, and who required a place to live in safety while their lands were being pacified, and local politics stabilized.

And over the years, the island developed into a small multicultural and harmonious refuge. Various families of fishermen, shepherds, merchants and travellers had made it their home. Norsemen, Danes, Gaels, Mercians, Saxons and even Franks and eastern people were living there quite autonomously, mainly from fishing and livestock farming. And as a trading port, the Norsemen and Danes on their way to England frequently stopped here to refuel their ships.

In short, everything could have been perfect. But the island was ruled by a pretty... _unpopular_ Norse prince. Håvard Haugland - one of the sons of a formidable Norse _jarl_ who had sailed to continue Ragnar's combat - had been put at the head of the island. But without his sister-in-law, the Danish priestess and princess known as “Nøkk”... not sure there would have been much left of said island.

Håvard Haugland was the epitome of self-absorption, and narcissism. Absolutely delighted to be the "crowned prince" of this "kingdom" that consisted of this land, he was spending most of his days writing songs and poems about himself and teaching them to the various _skálds_ passing through and heading for England or sailing back to Norway. And when he wasn't busy looking at himself in the mirror to find what physical detail he could highlight in his rhymes, he was usually too busy… _drinking_. A lot.

Like… a lot.

He alone could drink a whole barrel in a single day, and it was not uncommon for his stepsister to find him half-naked in the snow, on the verge of hypothermia, or sleeping in his drool on a table of the princely longhouse, after celebrating a banquet in his honour that everybody “forgot” to attend.

That day was no exception when Håvard dashed, completely drunk, to find Nøkk in her quarters. She was concocting a potion for a local fisherman who had a terrible headache, and was looking among all her vials, herbs, roots, seeds and other ingredients for something to relieve the poor man from his pain.

“Karina, my dear sister, beloved of _Nótt!_ ” he loudly exclaimed. “I just had a wonderful idea!”

"Stop shouting when you’re in my place." Nøkk quickly became annoyed, trying to decipher her own clumsy writing on one of her vials. "What do you want?”

Håvard came and sat on the wooden table in the middle of the room, right next to Nøkk's pots and ingredients.

"And move your hairy ass away from my table."

“Ok so first. It’s not hairy, it’s baby skin,” he proudly corrected her. “Secondly… How about we build a special thermal resort in the mountains?”

"What?" she replied in disgust. "A thermal resort? There are already hot springs that people use.”

" _Exactly_. We could build a kind of village specially dedicated to these thermal baths, and people would have to pay to get in and-"

"We're not going to make people _pay_ for washing themselves, Håvard," she plainly opposed.

"Ok, maybe not _all_ of them, but imagine all the people returning from East Anglia, their ships loaded with silver. We could charge them a special access to the thermal baths, decorated with statues of all our Gods, and of me of course, with _skálds_ telling our sagas, and that way we could accumulate more money to build even more statues to our glory. And people will remember the island as a small paradise on earth! The _legendary rainbow island_ , right?”

Nøkk was staring at him, arms folded and utterly annoyed.

"Håvard. This is by far one of the _worst_ ideas you've ever had in your whole life," she bitterly said as she slapped him on the shoulder. "Moreover, there are people who live in those mountains, near the springs! We're not going to root them out just so you can build a Roman slag heap and charge people for access to mountain water! It belongs to everyone.”

"You see _Karina_ , that's why I'm the prince of the island. You don't see far enough into the future.”

"Uh, how could I? I spend most of my time catching up on your mess, and dealing with _your_ subjects.”

"We make a nice pair, don't we?” he chuckled.

"Håvard, this is a terrible idea,” she dryly insisted.

"What if people agreed to leave? We could relocate them to the coast! Who doesn’t want a house with a view on the beach?”

"These people living in the mountains are _shepherds_ , Håvard,” she explained in an exasperated sigh. "How do you expect them to graze their sheep in the sand?”

"Sheep can eat seaweed, can’t they?”

" _By the Gods_ , get out of there, you're getting on my nerves!” she cried, pushing him out.

Håvard however was hilarious, giggling like a madman, and she suddenly smelt a familiar scent tickle her nostrils.

"Are you drunk?" she asked.

"Nuh, nuh. I'm not."

"Håvard! The day has only just started, and you’re already drunk!”

"It’s important to stay hydrated.”

"But Håvard, you...!” she interrupted, seeing that it was useless to try to shake some sense into him considering his condition. He stumbled slightly out of the room, holding to the door frame so as not to fall, and giggled some more.

Nøkk massaged her temples, sighing. Håvard was drinking too much. _Too fucking much_. Something was going to happen to him if he continued. Memory loss. Injuries. Liver problems. As a caretaker and priestess, she knew the evils of excessive drinking too well, and although she knew how to relieve the symptoms of intoxication, she didn't know how to stop Håvard from drinking.

She came to wonder how long it had been since he had been himself. Sober, normal, adult; human. She had known him for some time now, even before they were placed on the rainbow island. She was his sister-in-law, her own brother having married Håvard's older sister, and she had known him in Norway. Back then, Håvard was just a nice and erased young man, a little weak in spite of his tall height, and a little distant from the rest of his family.

"You have to stop drinking, Håvard. You're not yourself anymore," she mumbled. “This can’t keep happening.”

"Oh no, I know those eyebrows, you’re going to lecture me,” he whined. "I don't want no lessons, no, no, no, no. I'm off to see my kingdom, see you later!”

She saw him staggering further away, heading for the room where he used to sit nonchalantly on a chair encrusted with silver and emblems in memory of the battles he had never fought. Sending away his subjects who came to him for help, or writing poems that he forced the _skálds_ to learn for his glory.

She sighed, when a peculiar idea suddenly came to her. When clearing the table, she grabbed a potion in her hand, a potion she hadn't used for years. A recipe she had learned in her time in Norway, under the green glow of the sky, reflections of the Valkyries’ armours. She let her finger caress the engraved runes. It was pure concentrated _seiðr_ , concocted with unique ingredients, a brew meant to calm a restless mind, simplify complexity, soothe torment and help navigate through godly visions with crystal clarity.

A powerful drug, which should not be overdosed, because of the risk of _turning the human spirit into an animal one._ She took the little potion and went to pour a few drops into the barrel that Håvard had opened in the morning in the pantry. She poured a little more than needed, as she wanted to make sure that Håvard had some in his next horn and that it didn’t dilute too much, given the amount of mead in the barrel. She then closed the vial, and returned to her workshop to put it back in its wooden box on the shelf, and continued to prepare the medicine she had started in the morning.

Håvard, for his part, had gone to slump on his throne, listening with difficulty to the complaints of his subjects and most of the time sending them off to graze further away, or redirecting them to other people. "Ask the priestess", "Ask the blacksmith", "Ask the master craftsman", "Ask your sister", "Ask your father"... Håvard was frankly not doing his bit, but didn’t care. He felt bored, unstimulated and was already feeling thirsty again.

But then another villager appeared in the empty room.

This was obviously the first time he had ever set foot in the royal longhouse, given his curious eyes which analysed the tapestries, engravings, and statues displayed all around them. Håvard couldn't help but smile contentedly, happy to see that his decoration was having an effect.

"Come closer, you modest fisherman," he asked in a loud voice that he tried to render authoritative.

The man pointed his finger at himself and Håvard rolled his eyes:

"Yes, do you see anyone else here who looks like a fisherman?"

The man frowned slightly, as if a little puzzled by Håvard's behaviour, but moved forward obediently. And the closer he got, the more Håvard was frankly amazed by his beauty. For someone from the common people, he was _gorgeous_. Clean. Black hair with fine white streaks. Eyes as grey as two pieces of solid silver, brighter than Håvard's own jewels. He had a fine beard, delicate pink lips, and a masculine and beautifully defined bone structure, and his loose green and black clothes revealed tattoos that he recognized as Celtic on his arms.

"Celtic?” he asked.

"Gaelic," the man specified. "Th-Thank you for receiving me, my prince, I’m here because I have a request to submit to you.”

Håvard rolled his eyes and sighed:

"Yeah, yeah like the thirty or so hillbillies who preceded you..."

"Um, I... actually, it’s my sister. She's very ill, and we don't know what to do," the man admitted sadly. "She's... She's getting more and more tired, she can hardly get out of bed, she's in terrible pain and..."

"It's a woman, isn't it? It's her time of the month,” Håvard scoffed.

"No! It's more serious. It's been a few months since it started and it's getting worse every day. She even has trouble to eat, and sometimes the pain is so bad that she spends nights and days without sleeping. Only sweating and exhausting herself, and..."

"What do you want?” Håvard cut him off.

"I need the help of Princess and Priestess Nøkk. I... I know she's very busy, but we don't know what to do. And my sister can't travel long distances anymore, so the priestess would have to go up into the mountains to see her, and I..."

"In the mountains, you say?" Håvard interrupted him again, his attention suddenly drawn to the man.

"Y-Yes. We are shepherds in the mountains, right next to the hot springs. It's a little high up, but I can help her carry-"

Håvard suddenly stood up from his throne and walked towards the shepherd, whose eyes widened, as if he was afraid, he had said something wrong - which satisfied Håvard, who liked to feel powerful and feared. He walked down the few small steps of the platform that separated him from the man and took his chin in his pale fingers.

"What's your name, shepherd?”

"Iordáin Ó Treasaigh, my prince.”

"Couldn't you have a Christian name like the others, uh?”

"It is. It’s biblical,” the man plainly replied.

"Whatever, _Tracey_. I have a deal to offer you.”

Iordáin, uncomfortable, tried to free his chin from Håvard's fingers, but Håvard held him firmer and plunged his blue eyes into his own:

"I'm going to ask the priestess to sacrifice her precious time here to go and see your sister, _but_ in exchange, I want you to leave the mountains and go live on the seaside.”

The Gaelic man widened his grey eyes and stepped back.

"W-What? But... why?"

"Do you want Nøkk to come and see your sister, or not?”

"Yes, but we can't leave the mountains! We have our house there, and our sheep we... we can't raise and feed them by the sea, and it's... it's our house, and our parents are buried up there too and-"

Håvard put a finger on Iordáin's lips to silence him.

"Do you want me to send my priestess? The _princess_ of this kingdom, to come up to your mountains just to see your sister and serve her some herbal tea, yes or no?”

"Can I talk to her? To the priestess?”

"No. She’s busy saving lives. She has expressly demanded that all requests go through me in the future, since I am the monarch of this kingdom.”

The man pinched his lips. And Håvard suddenly froze when he saw the man’s gorgeous eyes glistening with _tears_. He was about to cry, and because of him. He hated that. Reality banging his intoxicated brain sober in half a second.

"So, hum… go back to your mountains and er... I'll send Nøkk in the next few days to see the Tracey family, alrighty? Pack your... your bags to leave the mountains and... that's it! Your wish will come true!” he hastened to conclude, pushing the man towards the exit.

"Th-Thank you..." the man mumbled, his throat tightening around his choked sobs.

And once the man was gone, Håvard quickly warned the guards that he didn't want to see anyone else all day and asked them to leave him in peace and take a break. Afterwards, he _banged_ his head against a wooden beam, letting the pain vibrate through his skull and resonate in the empty space where his brain should have been.

"Fuck… " he groaned.

He really didn't like making people cry. It made him uncomfortable, made him feel like shit; like the biggest failure of a prince and he hated it. And the image of those silver-grey eyes, those sad eyebrows and the tears that had threatened to fall from his beautiful irises…

He banged his head against the beam one last time, to the point that he knew he would have a bruise on his forehead, but it didn't matter. He stumbled towards the pantry where the barrel he had opened that morning was located. Retrieving the horn hanging from his belt, he dipped it into the drink until it was filled to the brim, and began to drink gulp after gulp as if it were water and his throat was parched.

At least the mead would help, and he would get better soon. And honestly, it wasn’t that bad: the man would have the help of Nøkk, who of course would never refuse something like that, and Håvard would have the place to build his thermal baths in the mountains. Everything was perfect, wasn't it?

_So why was there still this incomprehensible pain pinching his heart?_

He took a second horn, and quickly drank it, feeling the liquid warm his throat and gradually fogging his mind more and more. But when the man's grey eyes reappeared through the mental mist, he took a third horn... then a fourth...

And the fifth fell from his hands before he could finish it. He staggered backwards, clinging to a wooden table and almost fell on his knees, his legs shaking violently as if unable to maintain his weight.

" _By the Allfather_ … that's quite some mead..." he mumbled, hardly articulating his words.

He was gradually losing control of his body, and his senses. His tongue seemed to hang inanimate in his mouth, and his heavy arms could no longer hold the table and help him up. He fell to his side and crawled out of the pantry, feeling his body warming up weirdly, a strange and liquid sensation running through his limbs and embracing his bones and muscles like ivy around a tree.

He was feeling hot. Hotter than _Múspellsheimr_ itself, suffocating with heat, his body turning into a furnace, and he crawled as best he could outwards, to feel the freshness of the island, the harbour, and the valley against his burning skin. And once outside, he crawled to the nearest cart, and lay down on it, cowering under the fabric to hide his face from the blinding sun.

And fell asleep.

"So, how did it go?" Séamus asked Iordáin when he saw him finally arriving to the cart.

"Not... too well..." Iordáin confessed as he climbed next to him. “Sorry, I took some time, I needed to breathe a bit after the… interview.”

"Oh?” Séamus frowned. "But Priestess Nøkk is said to be the kindest and most selfless person on the island.”

"I didn't meet her," Iordáin explained with a sad sigh, "I just saw the prince.”

"Ah... And… how was he? Sober?”

"Don’t think so. He smelt like mead. But he said that any request for the priestess now needed to go through him first, because she was too busy. And he agreed to send her to see Ciara… but only on condition that... that... "

Séamus froze and immediately brought a comforting hand to his friend's back.

"Are you crying?”

"He said he would accept on the condition that we leave the mountains and go live on the beach,” Iordáin confessed in a repressed sob, his body shaking.

"W-Why?!" Séamus exclaimed. "This is ridiculous! And the sheep?!”

"That's what I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen..."

"Did you accept?”

"I didn't really have a choice... You saw Ciara's condition, and... "

Iordáin began to cry and Séamus took him in his arms.

"I don't know how we're going to make it," Iordáin sobbed, "Ciara, the sheep, the house... mum and dad who are buried up there..."

"We’ll find a solution, _bràthair_. Don't you worry.”

"Sorry, I'm a bit… overwhelmed..."

"When does Nøkk come to see Ciara?" Séamus then asked, trying to focus on the brighter side.

"In a few days, according to the Prince.”

"So that gives us a few days to find a solution, okay? The most important thing is that the priestess comes to see Ciara and heal her, and then we’ll see. I'm sure we'll be able to reason with the Prince. In any case, he can't make you leave the house overnight.”

"Yeah, you’re right," Iordáin sighed, sniffing, "you’re right."

"Come on, at least the priestess is going to see Ciara. She’s going to heal.”

"I hope so..."

Séamus stared at him a few seconds, pinching his lips, then took a sealed jug out of his bag and handed it to Iordáin.

"Here, look what I've bartered with the merchants in the port.”

Iordáin frowned and wearily looked at the jug.

“What is that? Mead?”

"That my good sir, is _wine_.”

“That southern grape beverage?”

"Yes!” Séamus joyfully replied.

"Didn't that cost you too much?” Iordáin immediately asked with worry.

"Let's say that I know the merchant's daughter _very well_.”

"Oh,” Iordáin simply murmured back.

"I had to occupy my time while you were talking to the Prince,” Séamus justified with an innocent shrug.

"I thought you were supposed to sell milk, and buy some wood and tools.”

"I did, it’s all back there under the fabric. I’m a fast and efficient man.”

Iordáin chuckled, and Séamus was satisfied that he had managed to make his friend smile a bit. He gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder and took the reins.

"Come on, let's taste this wine and hope we reach the village before nightfall.”

Later in the day, in the royal longhouse, Nøkk had finished her medicine. She put the preparation in a small bowl and covered it with a cloth soaked in beeswax for transport, and headed to the throne room:

"Håvard, I have finished the medicine, do you want to take it to the... Håvard?”

He was not on his throne, which was surprising given the time of day. She frowned and went to see his room, the library and then the pantry. She couldn't find him anywhere and was about to look for him outside when she noticed something on the floor.

Håvard's horn. Which _never_ left his belt, since it was basically his third hand. She bent down and picked it up; it was still wet. He must have been drinking again, but why would he have dropped it and, above all, why would he have left it behind? Was the drink so strong that he had staggered on the floor? Was he suffering from the side effects of the potion?

Something was wrong.

She saw a trail on the wooden slats of the floor, as if someone had scratched it with metal over long stretches. She followed the trail to the outside, through the small door that was rarely guarded, and then she saw a piece of cloth torn from a splinter. And she immediately recognised the expensive and princely blue fabric of Håvard's dress. She followed the trail and saw the tracks of a cart.

Her heart stopped beating as she tried to reconstruct the scene: Håvard had been drinking and had somehow lost consciousness before being dragged outside on a cart that had left the longhouse.

In other words: Håvard had been kidnapped.

"GUARDS," she screamed. "GUARDS! PRINCE HÅVARD HAS BEEN ABDUCTED!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I'm once again sorry for Ace's drunk toxicity, I don't like writing things like that, blackmailing and all... but have you seen what a jerk Kuzco is in the beginning of the movie??! What a little sh*t! Haha
> 
> Anyway, I hope it was ok still, don't worry he won't stay like that for too long and will be taught a good lesson!  
> Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you thought <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing

In the late evening, Iordáin and Séamus arrived in the village perched in the mountains. The two men got off the cart, and Séamus went to free the horse.

"I'll come back to fetch the wood and tools tomorrow morning, I'm too tired right now," Séamus confessed, stroking the horse, "I'll go and take care of this good boy, and go to sleep before Porter's bloody cockerel wakes me up.”

Iordáin smiled and embraced his bulky friend one last time.

"Thank you Séamus, for everything. See you tomorrow?”

"Count on me, Iordi. Rest well and give Ciara a kiss for me.”

Séamus then disappeared towards his home. Iordáin sighed and leaned back slightly to crack his back. He took the opportunity to look at the sky, woven in stars and cosmic powder, the fresh air tickling his cheeks.

But his attention was suddenly captured by movements on the back of the cart. Something was stirring under the fabrics.

"What the… ?" he murmured as he approached. Maybe it was a cat? A bird? Why were the movements so wide? He walked closer and lifted the fabric.

And at the same moment, a sheep jumped on him and crushed him on the ground.

" _By the Gods_ , my head is swimming!" a familiar male voice exclaimed. “Urgh, was it the mead?”

"Wha... What?!" Iordáin cried while the sheep was sitting comfortably on top of him with all its weight.

"Wait a minute, I know you," said the voice as the sheep leaned forward to look him in the eyes. ”Silver-eyed Tracey boy. What are you doing here? Did you want to spend the night with your idolized prince, sugar?”

Iordáin was completely astounded, his eyes wide open:

"A sheep... is talking... with the Prince’s voice.”

"A sheep?" repeated the sheep with… an upset expression? “I've been compared to many animals in my life, Tracey. A bear, a wolf, a ruthless predator... but never a sheep. Did you take a blow or something?"

Iordáin let his head loll backwards against the ground, almost fainting at the unreality of the scene.

"Hey, Tracey? Are you still with me?" Håvard asked, reaching for the man’s cheek to pat him awake.

And that's when he realized that he didn’t have a hand.

But a sheep's paw.

He let out a _shrill_ scream that tore through the night and goggled at his whole body.

"S-S-Stop shouting!” Iordáin moaned, his eardrums threatening to burst.

"I'M A FUCKING SHEEP!!!!"

Iordáin sat up and put his hand on the sheep’s mouth in the hope of muffling his cries a little.

"Easy there! N-No need to shout," he told him in a shaky voice.

But Håvard was absolutely panicking.

"I'm a sheep!!!" he screamed against his hand. "How am I supposed to calm down?!”

"It's... It's... There must be an explanation!”

"By the Allfather, and I totally _reek!_ And where are we?! What the hell am I doing here with you, Tracey?"

"You're... I think you were in the back of the cart. I have no idea how you got in there or when, but I... we're in the mountains now.”

"The mountains of the island?! But it’s so far from the longhouse! I have to go back!”

"It is pitch dark, and I have no horse, and… you are a sheep,” Iordáin softly objected.

"Take me back to the longhouse right now! Karina must know what to do. She always has a solution!”

"But I can't, I told you, I..."

"Take me back _right now_ ,” Håvard insisted, “I need my HUMAN BODY back!”

"C... Can't you go back on your own?”

"Tracey, you are either the stupidest, or the most innocent person in the world! I'm a SHEEP, I'm not going to walk the roads alone! I could get eaten! I could be kidnapped by one of your shepherd friends and cooked alive! And I'm not going to walk all that way! And I could get lost, I don't know the road and... Take me to the longhouse right away.”

"I-I can't... It's dark, I don't have a horse, I’m tired, and I have to see if my sister is all right, and I’d need to find someone to help me with the flock again, so... maybe we could go back on the road tomorrow?”

"Tomorrow??!” Håvard exclaimed. “Tracey, the whole valley must be looking for me! The kingdom will be on fire in my absence!”

Iordáin raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, and stood up, dusting off his clothes.

"What prevents me from simply getting rid of you, here and now?" he tried to bluff. "You're a sheep, nobody knows about your transformation, it's dark and there are no witnesses.”

"Tracey, even with those black eyebrows of yours, you still look softer than a kitten.”

Iordáin folded his arms, frowning, his lips pursing into a pout:

"Why should I help you, anyway? You want to root us away from our home, and blackmail me with my sister’s health. You said that Nøkk would arrive in a few days, so we’ll wait for her and she’ll take care of you then.”

"Tracey, Nøkk won't arrive until I am at the longhouse," Håvard told him, rolling his eyes.

"And why not? We had a deal.”

"Because I didn't have time to tell her anything about your sister!”

Iordáin suddenly froze, his arms falling limply along his body.

"Nøkk... doesn't know?”

"No!!!" Håvard exclaimed, almost amused. "And since she doesn't know, she won't come. So, if you want her to take care of your sister, you'd better get me back to the royal longhouse as soon as possible.”

Iordáin suddenly turned pale. _Very_ pale, and despite the dark night, Håvard saw his complexion turn dangerously white, as he suddenly seemed to lose his balance.

"Tracey?” Håvard asked worriedly.

"I don't feel... very well."

Iordáin brought one hand to his heart, over the thick wool of his waistcoat, and swayed suddenly backwards, his head banging against the solid mud on the floor.

"Oh no, Tracey! Tracey!” Håvard exclaimed as he trotted to his side. "Tracey! Hey! What's wrong? You're not dying, are you? Oh no, please don’t die."

Håvard shook him with his paws on his chest, and Iordáin seemed to painfully regain consciousness after long seconds, his complexion still pale, his eyes shining and his body weaker than a shaky foal.

"Ok Tracey, you win," Håvard anxiously sighed, "take us to your house, go get some sleep, and we'll leave in the morning. You hear me?”

"I don't know... how long Ciara can hold on," Iordáin confessed, as he tried to sit up.

Håvard instinctively helped him as best he could, sliding his fluffy head under Iordáin’s armpit to help him up.

"Don't worry, she'll be so happy to meet Prince Håvard the Great that she'll forget every bit of her pain.”

Iordáin stumbled a bit when standing up on his feet, and sighed:

"You're a sheep..." he reminded him.

"It doesn't matter, I can still sing. I will sing my last composition to her, to the glory of my time in Norway.”

Iordáin did not smile, and pulled his bag from the cart, dragging his feet along the path that led to his house higher up.

"Hey Tracey... you alright?" Håvard couldn’t help but ask, worried at the shepherd's still pale and sad expression.

“Y-Yeah. Sure… Don’t mind me, just… walking with the Prince of the Island who’s transformed into a sheep and blackmailing me with my sister’s life and our home.”

Håvard frowned.

"Come on, it's just a bargain, it's not that bad."

"It is," Iordáin mumbled in response, barely audible. “It is.”

Håvard refrained from adding anything, walking near Iordáin on the dirt road. He didn't like his sad expression, the collapse he just had, and the pain he seemed to be inflicting on him. It wasn't like that, he was exaggerating, wasn't he? Håvard would never allow himself to play with people's lives, to blackmail someone like that, it would be inhuman, and he wasn't like that… ?

Well... He _was_ blackmailing him, but it was different, and...

He would never dare to… Such extends and…

"Do you have mead in your home?" he asked, suddenly feeling the urge to drown his thoughts in the carefree euphoria of alcohol.

"No," Iordáin replied.

"What do you mean?! Not even a few horns?”

"No."

"Or any kind of brandy?"

"No, I don't have any of that," Iordáin replied a little bluntly. "We just have some food, fresh water, and above all, a warm, dry place to sleep and live in peace.”

"...but no mead?"

" Prince Håvard!" Iordáin cried. "You can spend a night without drinking, can't you?”

"...and how am I supposed to fall asleep?"

"Try closing your eyes?”

"Clearly, you have no idea of all the problems and the terrible stress I'm swimming under as the Prince of this island," Håvard mocked.

"Obviously not,” Iordáin scoffed back.

"You're going to make me sleep in a bed, at least?” Håvard quickly asked. “Not in the sheepfold with your animals?”

"It depends on how you behave..."

"Tracey!” Håvard suddenly exclaimed, mouth agape. "I am a Prince.”

Iordáin chuckled at that, and Håvard's heart warmed timidly to his smile.

"I know, I know. You'll sleep in my bed, don't worry.”

"With you?!"

"No, I'll sleep on the floor.”

Håvard was satisfied with this response. Not that the idea of sleeping with Tracey was that unpleasant, but he had these terrible back pains and he couldn't sleep anywhere but in a nice warm bed.

They walked on for long minutes, in a silence that Håvard tried to fill as much as possible, recounting his fictitious or exaggerated exploits, his long family line, the songs that were told to the far reaches of England by all the _skálds_ who faced the capricious North Sea to bring his exploits to the ears of all the kingdoms.

He finally stopped, however, when they arrived at Iordáin’s house. It was a small wooden house, next to a big tree, and a sheepfold a little higher up. From up there he could see all the way they had climbed, and especially the streams that meandered like silver threads along the mountain, towards the valley. He could even see the orange glare of the numerous torches from the harbour village where the princely longhouse was located, and elsewhere, the other smaller and local harbours where the rest of the fishermen and a few other merchants lived. And not far away, steam, a sign that the hot springs were just nearby, born in the mountains.

Were those thermal baths really worth it?

He shook his head, chasing away contradictory thoughts and remembering his goals.

"And here we are," Iordáin whispered, "my sister and the sheep are probably asleep, so try not to make any noise. We'll enter the house from the back door, that's where we store our supplies and where my bed is. Are you hungry?”

"No... I'm fine.”

"You haven't eaten anything all day though?”

"It must be my sheep's stomach.”

"Are you sure?”

"Tracey, why are you worried about me? I thought I was the big bad prince who was blackmailing you?”

Iordáin raised his eyebrows at this sharp remark, and sighed, lifting his hands up:

"Ok, I won't insist. But don’t even think about waking me up in the middle of the night because you're hungry.”

Håvard stuck his tongue at him, hoping that despite his sheep's head, it would be clear enough. Iordáin then opened the door and silently entered inside. He signalled to Håvard to follow him, and Håvard wiped his hooves outside before entering with a princely gait. Iordáin then pointed out two hay bales covered with a thick woollen blanket. He opened one of them and motioned to Håvard to lie down in it.

“That’s what you call a bed, Tracey? Where are the furs?” Håvard whined.

Iordáin looked daggers at him, as he motioned for him to shut up, and Håvard rolled his eyes and jumped on the bed. Iordáin then covered him with the blanket and went to bring him a bowl of water, which he placed next to him on a stone, in case he was thirsty during the night. Håvard then saw him take another woollen blanket, and put it next to the bed on the ground.

"Iordáin?” called a hoarse female voice from the adjoining room. "You... You're home?”

Iordáin rushed into the other room. Håvard could hear them them talking, and managed to understand the gist of the conversation even though some of the words, remained in their Gaelic dialect, still escaped him:

"Ciara? I'm here, it's all right.”

"You’re back from the royal house?”

"Yes, I just arrived. Did Jamie take care of you?”

"He did. He also took the sheep to graze with that eastern friend of his. He stayed with me until very late, but Mike needed him too.”

Håvard heard a kissing sound, probably on a hand.

"And how do you feel?” Iordáin asked, voice veiled with worry.

"I'm good, at the moment, it's bearable, but during the day it was… pretty bad. I threw up a lot.”

"Have you eaten a bit afterwards?”

"A little, but not much, I would just spit it all out before I could even put my spoon down. And I didn't want to waste too much food... Winter is coming soon.”

"Ciara, it doesn't matter... even if you throw up a lot of it, at least you'll have eaten some. You've already lost so much weight.”

"What was it like down there?” she changed subjects. “Did you see the Prince?”

"Yes, I met him.”

"What's he like? Did it go well?”

"Yes, he’s... he’s very nice," Iordáin lied, "he said he would send Nøkk to come and see you as soon as possible, in the next few days.”

"They say he's handsome?”

"T-The Prince?”

"They say he’s tall, with golden hair and shiny blue eyes. You like blue eyes, don't you?”

"C-Ciara, it’s the _Prince_. And he... he's... very busy with the island's business, so he didn't have much time for me.”

"But despite that, you said he would send Nøkk as soon as possible, so, he must be kind? Though, I’ve heard he had some drinking issues.”

Håvard heard Iordáin sigh.

"Yes, and... um... by the way, I have to leave again, tomorrow. The Prince needs me for something, and I’ll have to leave at dawn. Séamus and Jamie will probably come and help you eat, walk a bit to stretch your legs and breathe some fresh air. And as for the sheep... I'll pay Jamie and his friend to look after them.”

"Can’t you wait for Nøkk with me?"

"I wish I could, Ciara, but the Prince… He really needs me. And if I can help him with his things, maybe Nøkk will come sooner, and will be able to take care of you faster.”

There was a silence. Then a heavy sigh.

"Iordáin, do you think... do you think it’s really worth it? Don’t you think it may be… incurable?”

"Ciara, what do you mean? Of course, it’s curable!"

"Don't you think... I might have what mom had?”

"No, it's nothing like that, mom didn't have... not like that, and... "

"Iordáin, if it's the same thing, then..."

"No, Ciara. It's not the same,” he strongly denied.

"If I die, will you-“

"STOP IT!” he suddenly shouted.

A painful silence ensued before Ciara's sweet voice could resume:

"Iordáin, I just want you to get used to the idea that-"

"No, stop it!” he angrily replied. "You don't have mom’s thing, and you're not going to die, you hear me?! Tomorrow I'm going back to see the Prince and Nøkk, and she'll come to take care of you, and everything will be alright!”

"Iordáin...”

"Stop... please... Ciara..." he started to cry, breaking down. "I swear, it's not the same, she's going to take care of you, okay? Ciara, I'm sure it’s not the same thing. You just have to hold on for a few more days.”

"But I'm getting tired..."

"I know, Ciara, I know, but... really... it's going to get better. You have to be strong. You’ve always been stronger than me, so please… hold on. I can’t lose you… I just bloody can’t. So please, do it for me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I’m asking, sis. That you don’t give up.”

“If I leave, there’s nothing holding you back from turning into a sheep yourself,” she joked.

Håvard heard him giggle at that.

“I’d rather not talk about humans transforming into sheep right now,” he said in a chuckle. “Do you need anything? Some water? Something to eat? Wool?”

"I'm a little cold, yes... But the wood is too damp to make a fire.”

"I'll bring you a blanket, wait.”

Iordáin reappeared in the room where Håvard was lying, and grabbed the blanket he had laid out on the floor and went to drape it over his sister.

“Thank you," she murmured.

"The jug of water is just there, okay? And don't hesitate to call me if you need anything. I'm right next door, as always.”

"Thank you."

"I love you, ok?”

“I love you too, brother.”

There was a little kissing noise, and Iordáin reappeared. Håvard was motionless under the blanket, his heart tense and tears in the corners of his eyes; he had rarely witnessed such a sad scene in his life. Iordáin didn't say a word, didn't even glance at him, and went to fetch a woollen jacket hanging from a hook. He then lay down on the very ground, and used the poor jacket as a blanket.

Håvard felt sick again. Terribly sick. Shaken because of what he had just witnessed, and horribly uncomfortable with the wrong he was contributing to. Iordáin hadn't exaggerated, his sister seemed to be in real agony, and there he was, sleeping on the floor, on the ground like a dog, without a blanket, because he, Prince Håvard the Sheep, was sleeping in his bed after blackmailing him out of his house...

Håvard could have killed for some mead right now, to forget all about it, to separate himself a little from the world, from reality, from the pain that was throbbing in his chest. He closed his eyes, wrinkled his eyelids as if to weld them together and never open his eyes again to the real world, tortured by his own thoughts.

Eventually he must have fallen asleep, since when he opened them again, it was seemingly much later in the night. His light and tormented sleep had been disturbed by noises. He thought it was Ciara's cough at first, but no; it was Iordáin's sniffles.

He straightened himself up in the straw bed and went down slowly to see if he was all right and if he was awake. But Iordáin was asleep, though shaking like a leaf against the ground, his nose dripping. Håvard put his paw on one of his hands and immediately felt that he was _freezing_.

_No, no... that's not right..._

Håvard grabbed the blanket from the bed with his teeth and pulled it over Iordáin to cover his body with the thick wool. And when he realized it wasn’t enough, Håvard _knew_ exactly what he had to do, but it took him several long minutes of self-persuasion before he gave in to the idea. He was the hottest thing around. He was literally a ball of lively, fluffy and warm wool. So, he lay down against Iordáin's back, under the blanket, and huddled up against him, hoping to warm him up before he got too sick.

And when Iordáin’s shaking subsided, Håvard let himself be rocked to sleep by Iordáin's ample breaths, letting his woolly head rest against his shoulder blades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter, lemme know <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing !

"OH HOLY MARY, IORDÁIN" a Saxon voice exclaimed, "I KNEW YOU LIKED SHEEP, BUT I DIDN'T KNOW YOU LIKED THEM _THAT MUCH!"_

"W-What? Porter, what the hell are you doing in my house?” Iordáin whined. “Your bloody cockerel hasn't even shrieked yet!"

Iordáin fluttered his eyelashes open to stare at his friend, only to realize what he had been shouting about: he was still lying on the ground, hugging a sheep against him.

But no, not just any sheep.

 _Prince Håvard turned into a sheep_.

"It's not what you're thinking," he tried to explain. "And stop shouting, Ciara's resting!"

"No, Séamus took her out to stretch her legs and I brought you guys breakfast!" the energetic Saxon exclaimed, pointing to a small basket.

"I don't understand... what time is it?”

"Time to eat! Come on, let go of that poor sheep. Why did you sleep on the floor anyway? And since when do you have small sheep like that? Looks like a Norwegian breed or something.”

Iordáin stood up, while Håvard got up on all fours.

"I... Actually, it's... Jamie, can you keep a secret?"

"Sure thing. What’s the matter?” his friend replied, tilting his head sideways with curiosity.

"This sheep... it's not just a sheep. It's..." he paused to take a deep breath and whispered: "It's Prince Håvard Haugland.”

Jamie didn’t laugh, didn’t scream. He just stared at him, squinting his brown eyes, his mouth slightly ajar. He then brought a hand to Iordáin's forehead.

"Are you ill? Did you catch a cold?”

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's really him. He's been turned into a sheep in some way, and I have to take him back to the royal longhouse so that Nøkk can turn him back.”

Jamie glanced at the sheep, then looked back at Iordáin, frowning.

"I swear I'm telling the truth!" Iordáin insisted. "Prince Håvard! Say something!”

Iordáin bowed a bit, and encouraged the sheep to speak; he could see by the mischievous spark in his eyes that Håvard had heard him very well.

So he didn’t understand why, instead of proving his point, Håvard let out a:

"Baaaaaaaah!"

"I don't know, Iordi boy,” Jamie replied, “sounds sheepish to me."

Iordáin severely glared at Håvard:

"No, no, he's doing it on purpose. But he doesn't want me to look like a madman, right? So he's going to say something. _Right, Prince Håvard?”_

"Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

Jamie sighed and wrapped an arm around Iordáin's shoulders.

"Well, let's go outside and feed you, eh? Between yesterday's trip and everything, you must be pretty exhausted. Ciara told us that you need to go down to the harbour again to help the _real_ Prince with his business, so let's go and fill your belly. We'll look after your flock of sheep while you're away, don't worry.”

"I... Thank you. Sorry, I... I've been a real burden lately... I hope I'm not putting you in trouble?”

"What? No way, you are our brother, Iordáin. Gaels, Mercians, Saxons... we're just the same hillbillies in our hearts, aren't we?”

"I've put some money aside to help you out, for yesterday and today, let me just grab my-“

Jamie suddenly slapped his hand before Iordáin could reach the furniture.

"Don’t even think about it.”

"But I'm taking entire days of work from you, you take care of my family and-"

"Iordáin, you didn't understand. I don't take care of your family. I take care of _my_ family. You guys _are_ my family.”

"But-"

"No, no! I don't want to hear anything, I've already told you that... Wait- No, are you crying? Oh no please don't cry! When you cry I just want to put my head in a big pot and scream my lungs out…”

Jamie took him in his arms, and Håvard unconsciously moved closer to rub his head against Iordáin's thigh.

"I'm sorry, I'm just a little tired..."

"It's going to be all right, Iordáin. Come on, let’s eat something, Ciara and Séamus will join us, they must be at the hot springs.”

"Thank you... For everything. I... Can I just meet you in a few minutes?”

"Sure thing, I've already started the fire, I'll wait for you there. Just don't go back to sleep," Jamie joked, pressing a loud kiss on Iordáin’s cheek.

"I'll try. No promise,” Iordáin joked back.

Jamie winked at him and walked out of the house. And when he was sure Jamie was out of listening range, Iordáin then turned to Håvard with a very angry glare:

"Why didn't you say anything?!” he exclaimed.

"So that he wouldn't understand that I'm a sheep, duh?”

"B-But...! But you _are_ a sheep!”

"Do you think I want the news to spread all over the island? That the great Prince Håvard the Great has been turned into a _sheep?"_

"That would certainly make a more original subject for a song than your golden hair, your fictional battles with Odin, and the hundred times you saved the Ragnarssons in England.”

"I am _outraged_ , Iordáin!” Håvard replied, however amused by Iordáin's comeback, "I thought we were becoming friends! Especially after the night we shared... need I remind you how you hugged me like your dear sweetheart?”

Iordáin opened his mouth wide:

"I don't even know how you got there!” he protested. "Did you fall out of bed?”

"No, I saved your _life_. You were shivering and moaning in your sleep, as if you were immerged in an icy lake, and I kept you warm.”

Iordáin was about to reply something caustic, but interrupted himself, squinting incomprehensibly:

"You... you did that?”

"Yes, I did."

"Why? Were you cold too? Or did my trembling keep you awake?"

"No, I just saw that you were cold, and I wanted to help you!" Håvard replied, as if it were obvious.

Iordáin folded his arms:

"You won't make me believe you did this out of pure altruism.”

"Huh, why? Would that be so hard to believe?”

"Very."

Håvard huffed, and proudly raised his chin.

"Well, you should know that I am a very caring man.”

Iordáin couldn’t repress a scoff, as he rolled his eyes:

"A sheep. You are a very caring _sheep_.”

Håvard winked at him.

"At least you admit that I'm very caring.”

"Iordáin?" called Jamie from outside. "Are you still talking to your sheep? Ciara and Séamus are back, let’s eat!”

Iordáin smiled again, and Håvard tried to conceal how the vision of his happy face was putting butterflies in his stomach.

"Well, I'm going to eat with them, you can stick around if you want, I'll save a portion for you.”

Håvard watched him leave and followed timidly. In the distance he saw the famous Ciara, whom he immediately recognized as Iordáin's sister, considering her long, braided black hair. She was wearing a green dress, and a tall bulky man was helping her to walk with care and attention.

Instead of sticking to them too closely though, Håvard took the opportunity to explore the surroundings of the house. He followed the vapours to investigate the hot springs. The dawn was slowly coming up and the sun was gradually bringing the mountain into the light. He arrived at the springs and was immediately thrown aback by their beauty. When he took his bath each week, it was in a special bathtub or in a hut where stones were heated before water was thrown to them to create steam; it was a place where most of the rich merchants and passing travellers went. But these springs were purely natural, certainly volcanic. Composed of a series of ponds that created baths right in the mountain. There were ponds of all depths, of all sizes. Even in Norway, he had not seen such beautifully shaped ones. It seemed like a gift from nature to the men who lived here.

Many people could pay to come and bathe here. He knew that. Especially if he had statues and extra buildings built to improve comfort and pamper the rich warlords who came back from England laden with silver. But where would Iordáin, Jamie and the others live? This cultural osmosis in which the Saxons, Gaels, Mercians, Norse, Danes and many other peoples lived... could they find it elsewhere, further down the island? Close to the merchants and port activity? Could they adjust to its hustle and bustle, after living in such a peaceful and natural silence for years?

He lay down next to a pond, letting the steam caress his face, and instinctively began to chew on some grass, and started drifting off. Was it his life, now? Would Nøkk find a cure or would he remain forever a sheep? Would Nøkk even recognize him? What if nobody believed him, at the royal longhouse? What if he was just… once again… thrown away? And worse... forgotten? Tears started beading in the corners of his eyes, as he softly wept himself to sleep.

He was woken up later by a gentle pat at the back of his neck, soft fingers lost in his fluffy fleece.

"Your... Highness?”

He opened his drowsy eyes and saw Iordáin's face, almost worried, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"We should get going. Séamus can't lend us the cart, but we should be able to borrow one from the farming village further down.”

Håvard remained silent, gazing at him. Iordáin was so beautiful. His silvery eyes, his square face like a Roman sculpture, his perfectly drawn eyebrows, and his hand rubbing his wool like a tender caress.

"Are you all right?” Iordáin asked. “You must be hungry, here.”

He took a cloth from his bag in which he had wrapped a bowl of food. Salad, some vegetables, eggs and tiny pieces of meat. Håvard shyly accepted and took a few bites, chewing the food silently. Meanwhile, Iordáin started stroking his woolly fleece again. And if he had been a cat, Håvard would have been _purring_ because it honestly felt _so good._ Too bad he was a fucking sheep instead.

"We should shear you before you transform back," Iordáin said, "your wool is so soft and warm.”

Håvard let go of his piece of salad, and opened his mouth wide:

"SHEAR ME?! I'M A PRINCE!”

Iordáin laughed:

"I know, but... you've got some very nice wool.”

"Try to shear me, and I'll make sure _you_ get turned into a sheep too!”

"That’d make two of us,” Iordáin joked.

Håvard smiled in turn, rolling his eyes, and continued to eat.

A few minutes later, they set off. Håvard waited for him a little further down the road so that Iordáin's friends wouldn't ask him why he was taking a sheep he had slept with to see Prince Håvard. They walked along the cart path for a while, and after a long silence, Iordáin could not help asking:

"Y-You think Nøkk will have a cure?" he asked. "I mean, you know her better than anyone else, maybe you've seen times when even her potions weren't... enough?”

Håvard watched him speak and glanced at his face to see his expression, but Iordáin was looking straight ahead, hiding the emotions on his face.

"She is a skilled priestess and healer," he answered, "I’m sure she’ll at least find something to ease her pain. For the rest, the core of the illness, I cannot say. The only thing I can assure you is that if there is a cure or something that can be done, then she has it.”

Iordáin nodded silently, and Håvard saw a shadow pass over his face.

"You’re worried about something else?” he guessed.

"I... um... You said we had to move..." he began in a stutter. "You... You already know where you'd like to move us? I don't know much about the beaches of the island, and I don't know where... where we would stay, and uh... how much there is to... graze, and if there is a lot of wind, or... activity and passing by with the merchants and... well... do you know where you’d want us to go?”

Håvard felt a twinge of sadness as he imagined Iordáin loading his few possessions onto a cart with his sister, parting with part of his flock and saying goodbye to Jamie and his friends. To his family.

"No, I... I don't really know," he confessed, "but I... um. We'll see when we're with Nøkk."

The more time he was spending in these mountains, the less Håvard wanted all this; those stupid baths, moving people around like that, sending people off as if they had no emotions of their own. To use his power abusively for the simple pleasure of feeling respected and listened to. A true, pure, fundamentally kind-hearted and _good_ man was walking beside him, wounded, scarred and suffering unjust sadness at his side.

"I'm sorry..." Håvard blurted, feeling like shit. He couldn’t wait for Nøkk to help him rectify his wrongs and get him out of this mess.

"Hm?" Iordáin wondered. "What for?"

"The... blackmailing."

Iordáin sighed, letting his shoulders drop sadly.

"I guess you have your reasons..."

Håvard barely contained a wince.

_No, I fucking don't._

They arrived silently in the much more populated and lively farming village below. Iordáin told him to stay close, as there were a few animals being bartered, and he didn't want Håvard to be mistaken for one of them and accidentally sold to someone else. They went to the stable at the other end of the village, but just as Iordáin was about to ask the stable boy if he could rent a cart from him, a man smacked his hand on Iordáin's chest and pushed him back.

"What's your name?" he asked, his accent tinged with Danish.

"I-Iordáin Ó Treasaigh, why?"

Another man appeared, armed in the colours of the princedom.

"Gaelic. Black hair. Grey eyes. Tattoos. Burnt hands. That’s him.”

"I... sorry, what's going on?”

The two men suddenly pulled Iordáin by the arms and pressed him violently against the stone wall, hitting him on the head.

"You are the main suspect in the kidnapping of Prince Håvard Haugland.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :D  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, lemme know <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing :)

"You are the main suspect in the kidnapping of Prince Håvard Haugland.”

"W-What?! No, it's a misunderstanding, I-"

One of the men hit him violently in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

"Where is the Prince?!” the Dane shouted. “What have you done with him?”

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Iordáin lied, "I went to see him the day before to ask the priestess for help, but then I went back home and-"

The man hit him again, and Håvard instinctively ran to help Iordáin, but was violently kicked back in the flank.

"Prince Håvard disappeared after your interview and was dragged unconscious to a cart... And, guess whose cart was parked outside the longhouse when the Prince disappeared?”

"Stop it!" Håvard bleated. “It's me! I am the Prince!”

The two men turned around, still firmly holding Iordáin against the wall, and stared at the sheep with wide open eyes.

"What’s that witchcraft?! That sheep talks!”

"Are you a druid thing?!” the Dane asked Iordáin, “aren’t you all supposed to be Christian by now?”

“What have you done with the Prince? Where is he?!”

"N-Nothing, I swear!”

"I _am_ the Prince!" Håvard cried again. “And I _demand_ that you let him go!”

He only received a second kick to his ribs, which caused him to crumble violently to his side, dirtying his fluffy wool.

"Stop hitting him!” Iordáin cried out in turn, blood dripping slightly from his mouth.

Villagers had stopped anxiously to watch the scene, and the two royal guards were obviously not happy with the publicity. They dragged Iordáin with them, and Håvard followed them as best he could. They threw Iordáin heavily into the back of their carriage, behind thick metal bars, and Håvard managed to quickly hop up with him. One of the guards tried to grab him and hit him, but Iordáin wrapped his arms around Håvard to protect him.

"All right," the guard spat, "keep your talking sheep, we'll sell it at the harbour when Nøkk worms the information out of you. Literally.”

They locked them inside the cage, and climbed to the front of the carriage, setting off for the royal longhouse.

"Well... at least we won't have to walk," Iordáin tried to joke, wincing a bit.

"You've got blood in your mouth," Håvard remarked worriedly, "are you in pain?”

"A bit, but I’ll be alright.”

"STOP TALKING TO YOUR SHEEP!" one of the guards angrily shouted.

"As soon as I regain my human form, I'll exile both of those idiots from the island," Håvard grumbled in a low voice, “I don’t even know them, probably some uneducated bullies who forgot to climb back on their _knarr_ to Denmark.”

"They're just doing their job..." Iordáin sighed. "Are you hurt? They did kick you pretty badly.”

"I’ll survive," Håvard muttered, "I just hope they will let me come with you to see Nøkk. I don't want you to get into trouble..."

"She must be very worried, for sending guards to search for a suspect like me all the way to this village… She must hold you dear.“

"Yeah, I… I don’t deserve a sister like her,” Håvard confessed in a sigh, “without her I don't know what I’d be. Honestly, this whole island wouldn’t still be standing if it weren’t for her.”

"Why is that?" Iordáin asked, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"It’s just… I spend most of my time writing poems and drinking myself to sleep, while she takes care of everything. Politics, new arrivals, people in need, important decisions... I'm just her stupid brother-in-law. The muppet Prince.”

"But still, she seems to care for you. A day without you and guards are already combing the island.”

"We’ve always been pretty close,” he admitted, lowering a bit his head. “Her brother married my sister. And when we lived together in Norway, right after the wedding, she was feeling lonely, unrooted, she had never been this north and with her brother too busy preparing the next campaigns in England… Well, we found each other, since I was pretty alone myself.”

"You were? Why?”

“Eeer it’s a long story,” Håvard sighed, trying to dismiss it.

“Well, we do have time,” Iordáin tried to joke, using his hand to show their environment, “and I’m curious.”

Håvard sighed again, shifting a bit to lie more comfortably.

"My mother died giving birth to me, and because of that, I was very weak when I was little, overprotected, as if I were made of glass. And my father couldn't look me in the eye without thinking about my mother's death, so... I grew up alone. I wasn't allowed to train with weapons, I wasn't even allowed to hunt because I had trouble breathing back then, and of course, I couldn’t follow my siblings with my father in battle. And when he put me in charge of this island, he said it was a test for me, but honestly, I think it was more of a way to ease his conscience.”

"So… is that why you have so many songs and poems written about you? In the hope they can be conveyed to him?”

"Maybe. I never really asked myself that question.”

"I'm sorry anyway... about your mother and... all that. I had no idea. Sorry.”

"Nah, don't be. I'm a grown up, now."

"Yeah, but I also know that sometimes, some wounds never really… heal.”

Håvard looked at him worriedly and instinctively crept closer. Iordáin let him do so, lifting an arm so that Håvard could come and snuggle up to him, as he leant against his body.

"Hm... you really don't want to let me shear you?” Iordáin playfully asked. “Your fleece is so soft.”

"Uh, wait until I regain my human form, you're going to _love_ my hair.”

"Would I be allowed to touch it?” Iordáin asked with astonishment. “I'm not going to like... get my hand cut off for touching a living deity?”

Håvard chuckled.

"No, I'll make an exception for you.”

"Talking about exceptions… thank you, by the way, for earlier," Iordáin said a little more seriously.

"What do you mean?”

"For trying to defend me and confessing that you were... the Prince. I know you were embarrassed that people found out you had been turned into a sheep, but you tried to tell them anyway to help me and... thank you.”

"I couldn't let them beat you without doing anything,” Håvard replied with a frown, “I am honestly still outraged they didn't recognize my princely voice.”

"Well, you've changed a little bit physically, so don't blame them too much,” Iordáin chuckled.

Håvard sighed and buried his head under Iordáin's arm.

"How do you do it?” he asked him, his voice slightly muffled.

"How do I do what?”

"Find compassion for people who have hurt you. They hit you, manhandled you and threw you behind these bars.”

"It's not really compassion, it's just that... if I put myself in their shoes, I think I would have had the same reaction?” he tried to explain. “If I'm told that the Prince has been captured, while my job is to protect him, and I come across the main suspect who denies everything, well, I’d do my job. Besides, they probably don't have any more information than that and with Nøkk worried, they must be thinking that you may have been murdered and... it can't be easy for her. They probably want you back as soon as possible.”

"This, you see. _This_. How do you put yourself in people's shoes and care about how they feel?”

"You know how to do it,” Iordáin told him, stroking his fluffy collar of wool.

"I don’t.”

"You came to keep me warm last night when I was cold, didn't you?”

"It's not the same. I... it's because I was getting to know you.”

"So, get to know your people, and you’ll see that it will come naturally, without any artifice.”

"But I’m scared..."

"Of what?"

"Scared of knowing people and... what they think of me. I know I’ve been misbehaving a lot. Been rude, a stupid drunkard and... and I feel like it's too late to make up for it.”

Iordáin took his sheepy face in one hand and looked him in the eye.

"One has to start somewhere, right? It doesn't matter from how far you start, because as long as you start moving… well, you're just going forward.”

Håvard smiled weakly, and Iordáin couldn’t repress a chuckle.

"This is the first time I have ever spoken so philosophically to a sheep.”

"I am a Prince!" Håvard exclaimed, pretending to be offended.

"That I understood," Iordáin laughed, "and I won't tell anyone that I made you eat from a bowl and that you deliberately _bleated_ to embarrass me.”

"Please don't," Håvard begged him.

"I could take advantage of this to blackmail you too..." Iordáin playfully replied.

But instead of making him laugh, it plunged Håvard into a deep unease. He sighed heavily, letting his head rest on Iordáin's thighs, and fleeing his gaze.

"S-Sorry... it wasn't very funny," Iordáin apologized.

"No, it's not you, it's just that... I blame myself for what I told you when we met. When I blackmailed you with... your sister. So that you would leave your house and go live on the beach.”

Iordáin stayed still and let him continue.

"I changed my mind,” Håvard sighed.

"S-So you... you don't want to... talk to Nøkk about my sister anymore?” Iordáin started to panic.

"No, no! On the contrary! I will tell her!” Håvard quickly replied. “But I... in fact I wanted you and the others to leave the mountains so that I could install some pricy thermal baths, like they had in the Roman Empire but... but it was a bad idea. When I see what you managed to build up there, this community of people, in osmosis with nature, so simple, calm and peaceful, I... I don't want to disturb that. I wish it could be like that everywhere on the island. There are so many people who come here after losing their land, or to flee wars, conquests, raids, religious oppression, and... and yeah.”

"So, you... you don't want anything in return?" Iordáin asked him for confirmation.

"No... Or maybe I do. Could we just… see each other once in a while? If that's all right? If it helps, I can pay you as a counsellor so we can spend time together, and you won’t have to..."

"No, no, no! You're not going to pay me to be your friend!”

"So, you... um, you’d… hum?” Håvard awkwardly stuttered, too scared to be turned down and rejected.

"Listen, you may be the most _irritable_ person in the world when you want to, especially when you’re drunk, and we may have started off on the wrong foot but... but the more we talk, the more I feel like... you're not a bad person. Maybe that’s because you finally sobered up, but you… you’re even quite endearing when you want to be, and I'm… yeah, I’m starting to care about you.”

He punctuated his last words with a caress in Håvard's thick wool.

"You do?" Håvard softly mumbled.

"Yes, I... I feel that behind the Prince, behind the vikingr... behind the _sheep_ , there is a nice man. A wounded nice man.”

Håvard huddled up against him again and began to cry. And Iordáin started to panic:

"Are you... Are you crying? Oh God, no, don't cry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I... Oh my God, this is the first time I've ever seen a sheep crying, that’s so weird.”

"I'm so sorry... I blackmailed you, I mistreated you, yet you made me sleep in your bed, you fed me, you defended me and took blows because of me and... You’re just so good, I don’t deserv-"

"TELL YOUR SHEEP TO SHUT THE FUCK UP," cried one of the guards.

"I'M NOT A SHEEP, I'M A PRINCE, OKAY?!" Håvard replied back.

"Sorry!" Iordáin exclaimed, clasping his hand to Håvard's mouth. "He's a bit claustrophobic! I'll take care of him.”

Håvard glared at him, and Iordáin couldn’t repress a chuckle at the sight of Håvard’s sulking and pouting face. He pulled the sheep to him, and took him in his arms, like a baby.

"Come here, baby sheepie!” he jokingly whispered.

"'m not a sheep..." Håvard grumbled against him.

"Let's just hope Nøkk recognizes you easily. Otherwise, it's going to be quite some mess to untangle."

The rest of the day passed slowly, too slowly. The guards only took two breaks to urinate, keeping an eye on Iordáin and his mysterious sheep, before locking them up behind bars. They arrived in the harbour in mid-afternoon and were taken directly to the princely longhouse. The guards violently pulled Iordáin out of the cart and put irons on his wrists. One of them then violently pulled Håvard by the ear and Iordáin immediately squirmed:

"Hey, hey! Leave him alone! He hasn't done anything!"

He immediately took a punch to the cheek and fell heavily into the mud, Håvard rushed to his side, but the guard grabbed him by the wool and pulled him back. And like a good sheep, Håvard began to bellow:

"STOP HITTING HIM! HE’S INNOCENT!”

Seeing that the passers-by were beginning to stop to peep at the show in front of the longhouse, especially the _talking sheep_ , the guards dragged them both inside. Someone sent for Nøkk, while Iordáin was being knelt down and Håvard sat down, _glued_ to him.

They heard loud thumps, like chairs being tossed to the ground and pushed furniture, and Nøkk appeared in the room, dark hair all over her face, and quickly came to stand right next to the throne where Håvard should have been sitting. She lifted an eyebrow:

"This is supposed to be related to Håvard’s kidnapping. This is an extremely sensible topic… so you better explain to me why I have a shepherd covered in mud and blood, kneeling in front of me, with his sheep?!”

"Ok, so, let me explain," Håvard began.

The guard was about to beat him quiet, but Nøkk suddenly raised her hand with authority, her eyes widening.

"Say that again, sheep?”

"So, yeah, it's actually me, Håvard. Yeee. Long story short: I somehow turned into a sheep and fell asleep on the cart of that nice shepherd who was about to take me back here. Can you turn me back to my human form, and go and look after his sister? She is in the mountains and she’s very ill.”

Nøkk blinked several times, flabbergasted, and turned her head towards Iordáin who shrugged his shoulders:

"I confirm that he’s not my sheep.”

She motioned to the guards to leave them and rushed to Håvard once they were outside. She cupped his woolly head in her runes-covered hands:

"H-Håvard, is it really you?” she asked in a shaky and worried voice. "What the... how did you...? How long have you been a sheep? Are you all right?”

"Yes, I am fine. Tracey here took care of me. I think it's because I drank too much... After the morning auditions, I went to drink a few horns in the pantry and I-"

"You drank several horns from the mead barrel in the pantry?" she exclaimed. "How many?”

"Hum... Four or five I think?”

She swore in Danish and pulled at her braided black hair.

"It's my fault... it's my fault Håvard, I'm so sorry, I... I put a potion in the barrel because you were drinking too much... it was supposed to make you sober. I just wanted you to... _oh by the gods_ , you must have drunk too much of it.”

"Um... you know how to create an antidote, right? Or counter the effects?” he asked.

"It's very powerful magic, old _seiðr_... I have a lot of documents, but it could take me days to merely find the necessary ingredients, and weeks to gather them.”

"I... um... "

"I'm going to get started right away!” she quickly said, standing up. “Even if it takes me a week, I won't leave my workshop until I've found out how to help you. The more time goes by, the more we run the risk of it becoming permanent and the _seiðr_ infusing into your body.”

Håvard moved closer to her and rubbed his fluffy head affectionately against her leg.

"I deserved it..." he sighed. "But there's something more urgent than that.”

"What is it? Are you hurt?”

"No, but someone needs help..." he replied, turning to Iordáin. "His sister. She's dying.”

Nøkk stared at him, suspicious and astonished.

"She has something of yours? He threatened you?" she asked Håvard, as if the idea that he could put someone's health before his own seemed improbable to her.

"No, he didn't. He came to me for help, he needed to talk to you. His sister is dying, she’s in terrible pain and has difficulty moving around and eating. You have to help her. They are good people and they need you more than I do right now.”

"B-But... you're a sheep, Håvard.”

"No, I am a Prince," he replied proudly, "and my subjects need help.”

Nøkk went to run one of her tattooed fingers over Iordáin's lip to wipe the dried blood from his mouth.

"Iordáin Ó Treasaigh, right?”

“Y-Yes, priestess.”

She removed the irons from his wrists.

"Let’s not waste time then, take us to your house, I'll heal your sister."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it :) Hope you liked it! Lemme know <3  
> Have a nice day


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smaller and fluffier chapter.  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

When, in the middle of the night, Ciara Ó Treasaigh, James Porter and Séamus Colden were visited by the royal priestess Nøkk, a sheep claiming to be Prince Håvard, and Iordáin himself, it took them long minutes to understand the situation.

"So, wait, wait..." Jamie resumed while holding a lantern to light Ciara, whom Nøkk was examining, "you guys basically kidnapped Prince Håvard?!”

"I didn't even know he was in the back of the cart!” Séamus protested.

"Neither did I" Iordáin confirmed.

"And to be honest, I don't even remember climbing on it," Håvard added.

Jamie raised his dark eyebrows, and passed a hand over his face.

"This sheep talks. This sheep is Prince Håvard. I still can't believe it.”

"I know, it's hard to believe..." Iordáin sighed. “But he is.”

Jamie suddenly opened his eyes wide, and hid his gaping mouth with his fist.

“Oh, holy baby Jesus, wait a second, Iordi… You _SLEPT_ with that sheep, didn’t you?! You slept with sheep-Prince Håvard!”

“He was cold!” Håvard tried to argue. “I was just trying to keep him warm.”

“Oh my God, my God, my God… you _slept_ with _our Prince!”_

“He’s a sheep, Jamie!” Iordáin insisted. “It’s not like we could have done anything… unchristian!”

“You bet, he’s not even Christian!!!”

“What are you implying, James Porter?” Håvard replied. “I may be Norse, it doesn’t mean I can’t control my d-“

“Thaaaaat’s enough, I think, uh?” Iordáin quickly interrupted.

“Ok, ok, sorry,” Jamie tried to relax, “so, you guys _accidentally_ kidnapped Prince Håvard, who happened to be turned into a sheep because Nøkk, our priestess, accidentally overdosed his mead when wanting to make him sober up.”

“I didn’t overdose it. He overdosed himself,” Nøkk corrected. “Nobody’s supposed to drink that much in the morning.”

“Ok, so first,” Håvard tried to justify, “I wasn’t feeling well, because I had made Iordáin cry!”

“I didn’t cry.”

“You did! Your eyes were glistening like the reflect of the moon in the sea!”

“Well, you did blackmail me pretty harshly.”

“I was an asshole!”

“That you were.”

“But that was _before_ you grew feelings for sheepy-me.”

“I haven’t grown feelings for sheepy-you.”

“Well, you did compliment my fleece several times.”

Jamie looked shocked, and once again hid his mouth with his hand, turning to Iordáin with outrage.

"I mean..." Iordáin confessed. "Have you touched his fleece? It's so fluffy."

"I can't believe this," Jamie spat out, "we're talking about Prince Håvard's wool!"

“Would you prefer to talk about my _wood?”_ Håvard cheekily replied “Because there’s a poem telling how-“

“Oh my God, stop it!” Iordáin scolded him, muffling Håvard’s babbling with his hand.

Nøkk snapped her fingers, taking them out of the conversation and reached out her hand. Immediately, Séamus brought her the bag of vials and ingredients that she had entrusted to him when she had entered the house.

"So...?” Iordáin asked, his eyes suddenly focusing on Nøkk.

"Bad. Nasty. Not incurable," she plainly replied.

"So... you... know how to treat this?"

"Yes. To begin with, I'll give her something to ease her pain and calm her stomach, so she can eat and regain her strength. And tomorrow I will give her a first dose that will attack the disease. She will vomit a lot, her body will purge itself, but if she eats and drinks enough, she should have the strength to fight the disease.”

"I... it's... good news," Iordáin breathed, even though it wasn’t properly won yet.

"I want to stay here for a few days to help her," Nøkk demanded, "can I sleep next to her?”

"I... um... of course you can take my bed," Iordáin quickly replied, "sorry, it's probably not as comfortable as in the longhouse but-"

"That'll do, thank you.”

Jamie patted Iordáin's shoulder:

"You can come and sleep at my place if you want. With um... _his Majesty_.”

"You sure? It wouldn’t bother you?”

"No, lately, I’ve... I've been sleeping at someone else's place, so you'll have my room for the two of you.”

Iordáin smiled mischievously, guessing who James was talking about. He knew that since Mark Chandar, son of an oriental merchant, had taken up residence in the mountains to devote himself to the work of wool, James had begun to develop his knowledge of sheep, almost abandoning his beloved chickens. Always asking Iordáin tons of questions about wool, sheep breeds and everything that might have helped him get the attention of Mark.

"Thank you, Jamie. That’d be ok for you, Prince Håvard?”

"Hm, sure.”

"Just don't... don't put wool all over my bed, alrighty?" Jamie added.

Håvard rolled his eyes and Iordáin chuckled at that, absent-mindedly stroking Håvard's collar of fleece at the mention of it. Everyone then wished each other a good night, and Iordáin kissed his sister after she lied in her bed, while Nøkk's potion was already starting to work and soothing her pain.

They then walked by the light of James' lantern to his thatched cottage, where he pointed to his room, a veritable bazaar of accumulated charms, with a bed of straw and blankets on the floor. He then left to join Mark, and Séamus returned home.

"Well, what a day," Håvard sighed as he lay on the blanket, stretching his sheepy body, "I can't remember travelling on the island so much in such a short time.”

"Yeah, we did travel a lot, even if the return journey was _much more_ _pleasant_ than the morning one," Iordáin joked as he took his thick woolen jacket off, James having left the fireplace to heat his cottage during the day.

Håvard watched him do, and widened his eyes when he saw Iordáin's bare chest. Muscular and perfectly defined. Brown body hair climbing up here and there, Celtic tattoos dressing his arms and part of his back.

" _Allfather, have mercy_..." Håvard mumbled.

"Hm?"

"You're... you're a very handsome man," he mumbled before thinking.

Iordáin blushed a little and jokingly replied:

"Well, you're a very handsome sheep."

He then took off his boots and when he bent down, Håvard saw a nasty bruise on his ribs.

"You're hurt," he whispered.

"Hm, no I'm not?” Iordáin replied, putting his boots away, and approaching the bed, simply dressed in large panties.

"Yes, you are. Your ribs. Does it hurt?"

"Oh that? Yeah, a bit. It'll heal tomorrow."

He came and settled down near Håvard, and blew out the lantern’s candle, before pulling the blanket over their bodies.

“You should tell Karina tomorrow,” Håvard told him in a whisper, “she probably has something to sooth the pain and speed the healing.”

“It’s not worth wasting her ingredients on that, really, that’d be useless,” Iordáin protested, “it’s going to be an old memory in a few days.”

“What would be useless is you suffering from something that could heal with a few leaves and some balm.”

“Hm, you’re getting good at this caring thing,” Iordáin couldn’t help joking, “I’m starting to regret it.”

Håvard moved closer, and touched his arm with his paw.

"What's wrong?" Iordáin asked, not seeing anything in the dark.

“I miss my hands,” Håvard mumbled.

“I can only imagine.”

“I miss them _right now._ ”

Jordan chuckled:

“Always so capricious,” he joked. “Why do you miss them _right now?”_

“Because I want to hug you,” Håvard confessed in a murmur.

“Anw, well come here then, Prince Håvard the Great Sheep,” Iordáin giggled, opening his arms, and pulling the sheep to him, while Håvard very happily went to snuggle against him. “Hm… so fluffy.”

"Please don't talk about shearing.”

"I mean… It would be a real waste, though.”

“Iordáin!”

“I’m just teasing you, don’t worry.”

“No, you’re not,” Håvard replied with a pout, “you really wished you could shear me, admit it.”

“Ok, maybe I do.”

"Wait till I get my body back... No more sheep hugs, you'll be able to appreciate my tall and strong muscular body.”

"Hum, you mean we’d continue hugging even when you’re back to your human form?”

"You don't want to?"

"Oh it’s, hum… I'd...” Iordáin awkwardly stammered, a bit unsteady at the idea of _hugging_ the Prince of the island, “it's been um... a while since I've hugged someone and... I like hugs and... Hum. But I'm going to miss your fleece.”

“You _really_ have a kink for my wool, uh?”

“Don’t tell anyone, or I’ll tell the whole island you were turned into a bleating sheep.”

“Then I’d tell them you let a sheep spoon you last night.”

“I didn’t know you were there!”

“Are you cold by the way?” Håvard asked, scared of reproducing last night's conditions.

“No. Are you?”

“Me neither, I’m warm.”

“Great then.”

Håvard cuddled up to Iordáin, and sighed in euphoria.

“Hmmm…”

“So… good night?”

“Night, night, Iordáin Ó Treasaigh.”

“Good night, Prince Håvard Haugland.”

“Just Håvard.”

“Good night _Just Håvard_.”

“Iordáin!”

“Haha sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

With these words, Iordáin tightened his embrace around the sheep and dipped his head in his fluffy collar. He closed his eyes, his heart finally soothed at knowing that Nøkk was near his sister. And at having someone... with him. It didn’t matter if he was a sheep, the Prince of the island, a Norse… as he said, it was just Håvard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it for this small one haha I'll probably publish the last chapter tomorrow, to make mental room for another fic haha  
> Thank you for reading anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! <3  
> (Also yay, happy birthday Thermite <3)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter :) A bit abrupt, but this whole fic was meant to be a ficlet anyway haha  
> Hope you'll enjoy it!  
> \+ Sorry for any mistake / weird phrasing.

Håvard would have loved waking up to the warm sunlight on his eyelids. The gentle song of birds, the rustle of wind-swept leaves, the sweet scent of freshly prepared food carried up to his nostrils...

But no.

He was awakened by a shrill, animal, guttural, high-pitched, mortuary scream.

" _By Thor's fucking goats_ , what is this?!" he cried himself awake.

Iordáin tightened his arms around him, burying his head in his woolly neck and muttered:

"Jamie's cockerel.”

"But it's... it's not normal to scream like that, is it?" Håvard exclaimed.

"No, it has a problem with his throat, but it still screams its best every morning.”

"It is absolutely... _hellish_.”

"At least it helps waking up anyone in the neighbourhood, and getting up in the morning.”

"Creature from the underworld…" Håvard started swearing, “I’m sure even _Hel_ rejected it.”

"How do you usually wake up in the princely longhouse?” Iordáin asked, rubbing his eyelids with one hand.

"Karina comes to shout at me. And takes the blanket from me. Usually, I'm too tired, hungover and have too much of a headache to get up by myself.”

"You seem to drink a lot, indeed..." Iordáin murmured.

"Yes, I used to," Håvard admitted, "but I haven't had a single drop since I was a sheep.”

Iordáin chuckled, and got out of bed to fetch his clothes. Håvard immediately felt empty when his warm hands left him.

"At least Nøkk's potion has served a purpose," Iordáin joked, "but yeah, I have to admit... there's quite a difference between... drunk-you and sober-you. I mean... you're really not the same person between the moment we met and… today.”

"To begin with, I’ve turned into a sheep," Håvard scoffed.

"I thought you were a _Prince_?" Iordáin gently mocked in return.

"I am. And as a prince, I demand to be treated like one," Håvard joked.

Iordáin laughed and returned to his bedside. He slid his arms under Håvard's woolly body and lifted him from the bed, taking him in his arms.

"I-Iordáin?” Håvard mumbled, a little surprised to feel carried in the Gael's arms.

"Jesus Christ, it's a good thing you're one of those light Norwegian breeds.”

"Don't drop me!” Håvard cried, huddling up to him, "I am the Prince of this island!”

Iordáin laughed and pushed the wooden door with his foot to take them outside. Jamie was already up and was cuddling his dear cockerel, and checking on his chickens, still in their henhouse.

He saw Iordáin and Håvard and smiled:

"Hi mates! Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, very well, thank you for letting us sleep in your home."

"Is Prince Håvard still tired?” Jamie teased him. “Why are you carrying him?"

"It’s so that his princely paws don't touch the soil of this unworthy place," Iordáin joked.

Jamie smiled and stood up.

"Looks like your humor is back. You're getting better."

"I'm relieved," Iordáin confessed, "even though Nøkk said it was going to be hard, at least she's here now.”

"True, and about that, I advise you go and wash yourself in the springs before you see her again, you're dirty!" Jamie exclaimed.

"You can talk! Even your chickens are cleaner than you, one might think you live with pigs.”

"Maybe, but at least I’m not holding the Prince of our island in my arms while the royal priestess sleeps in my bed!”

"Ok, you’ve got a point," Iordáin sighed, "I'll go and wash up quickly, then I’ll check on Ciara.”

"Can I come?" Håvard asked. "I feel dirty too.”

Iordáin put him down, and nodded.

"If your Highness demands a bath, who am I to deny him?”

Håvard proudly lifted his chin and walked towards the springs he had spotted the day before. Jamie lent them some cloth to dry themselves for when they were finished, and went to feed his chickens.

Once at the edge of the pond, Iordáin began to undress to get naked and Håvard watched him, fascinated by his tattoos and his masculine and... perfect body. Iordáin then slowly stepped into the pond, first getting his neck and body wet with his hands. He then immersed himself in the pond, and Håvard dipped one of his paws in the water to check the temperature.

"It's warm, you can come," Iordáin reassured him, running a hand through his damped black hair to take it from his face.

"Hm... that shall do, indeed.”

"Stop making a fuss, and come!” Iordáin chuckled, “I will help you with your fleece.”

Håvard squinted:

"You want to clean my fleece so you can shear my wool afterwards, don't you?”

Iordáin rolled his eyes, and grabbed his front paws, sliding Håvard towards him to join him in the pond.

"No, it's for you. It's going to be uncomfortable if you let all that dirt knot in your wool.“

"Do all your sheep get such a treatment?”

"Yes. Well, no, I don't bathe with my sheep, but I make sure they don't have too much crap in their wool or knots that accumulate. Now, come in!”

Håvard let himself be dragged and slid into the pond, his head barely emerging from the water as he wiggled his limbs to stay on the surface.

"My feet can’t reach the bottom!!!” he shrieked. “Are you attempting to DROWN me?!”

"Nah, hold on to me, then," Iordáin replied in a chuckle.

Håvard didn't have to be told twice, as he huddled up to him as if he were a raft in the open sea. Iordáin then began to rub his wool and remove small twigs and bits of dried mud that had accumulated in it. Håvard allowed him to do so, and even enjoyed the sensation, feeling pampered in the arms of someone who cared about him.

"Aren't you... afraid of staying a sheep all your life?" Iordáin suddenly asked. "Nøkk said that the longer it takes to change you back, the greater the risk of it becoming permanent.”

"I know..." Håvard sighed against Iordáin's chest, his eyes closed. "It does scare me, but it was the right thing to do. Your sister needed help more than I did... "

"Thank you..." Iordáin whispered.

"I just hope I don't start bleating or grazing grass," Håvard continued, "Nøkk said the risks are that the animal spirit might prevail over the human spirit... So, I guess as long as I keep acting and behaving like a human, I should be fine.”

"If that can reassure you, I don't know of any sheep that behaves like you," Iordáin joked. "Between your princely airs, your proud gait and your emotional dependence.”

"I am not emotionally dependent," Håvard protested, sulking a little.

"Then why do you always end up in my arms?"

Håvard sighed. He couldn't say it out loud, but he knew very well what was going on inside; in his heart. Sheep or no sheep. He knew very well that the effect Iordáin had on him was not just friendship, not just gratitude or empathy. He was beginning to get seriously attached to him. To love his arms. His humour. His personality. His sympathy. His kindness. His Gaelic accent. His simplicity. His purity. Just him.

"I'm sorry, I... said something wrong?" Iordáin worriedly asked.

"It's just that... sorry, I don't know how to say it without it sounding weird but... Iordáin, I... I like you a lot.”

Iordáin laughed and kissed the sheep on the forehead.

"Aaanw, I too like you, Prince Håvard.”

"Not like that. I mean...” Håvard deeply breathe in before confessing, “I think I love you.”

Iordáin froze, but instantly Håvard felt a sudden warmth throughout his body. He felt like he was boiling from the inside. He moved away from Iordáin, and splashing towards the shore, out of breath, his muscles tightening around his bones, piercing under his skin.

"I... er... are you all right?” Iordáin worried.

"N-No, I'm... I'm burning,” Håvard managed to utter, “m-my body is... on fire.”

"Is this normal?! Do you want me to get Nøkk, I... Håvard?”

The sheep suddenly sank into the pond, losing consciousness.

“Håvard?!!”

Iordáin immediately dove in to catch him, but when he caught his paws... they turned into human hands. Lean, white, fleshy. Iordáin pulled him to the surface, and when he managed to pull his head out of the water, it was no longer a sheep.

It was Prince Håvard Haugland. _Human_ Prince Håvard Haugland.

"H-Håvard?" Iordáin called, patting him on the cheek. "Håvard, what's going on? You’ve… you’ve transformed back! Are you alright?”

Håvard reopened his eyes, his eyelashes covered with heavy drops of water, and came to his senses.

"I'm sorry, I... I think I fainted.”

"Y-You’re no longer a sheep!” Iordáin exclaimed.

"What do you mean?” Håvard asked with confusion, looking at his hands, and saw to his amazement that he had indeed his human body back.

"Th-The seiðr! The spell has been lifted! H-How? I’m myself again!”

"Looks like it," Iordáin replied with a smile, genuinely sharing his happiness.

Håvard then threw himself in his arms and held him tightly. Forgetting a certain detail.

"Hm... Håvard, you... you're naked.”

"Am I?”

He peeped down to check, and bit his lips.

"And I'm taking you in my arms and sticking my body to yours,” he plainly remarked.

"Hm hm,” Iordáin confirmed.

"And we are both naked.”

"Hm hm.”

"Can we... not talk about it?”

"Good idea.”

"Thank you.”

"Not that... it's unpleasant," Iordáin confessed, blushing a little.

Håvard blushed in turn, his arms still around Iordáin's shoulders.

"Hm… it’s not?”

"N-No, I... um... at least you're not a sheep anymore. And um... I think I like you too.”

“Like me how?”

Iordáin gently placed his lips on Håvard's, which froze on contact.

"Hmm... like this?" Iordáin mumbled a little hesitantly.

Håvard then opened his mouth wide, stunned by the situation, and Iordáin tensed up.

"I'm sorry, I- I misunderstood? But you said you... and as I also... I'm sorry, I shouldn’t have? Are you going to have me beheaded? Oh my God, you’re not going to blood-eagle me or something, right?”

"No!” Håvard exclaimed. "No, it's just... after all that's happened, I didn't expect you... to love me back.”

He accompanied his words with a warm embrace, resting his wet blond head in the hollow of Iordáin's neck, who tightened his arms back around his naked form.

"Let's say that you let me see the man hidden behind the animal I first met.”

"Sorry... I'm so... sorry about that. I regret every second of this…”

"It's all in the past, you've changed now," Iordáin whispered to him, "you were ready to stay a sheep to save my sister. That’s… quite something."

"I didn't want you guys to suffer anymore..."

"HOLY MARY, WHO IS THAT?” Jamie's voice suddenly cried.

Iordáin immediately detached himself from Håvard:

"J-Jamie! I can explain!"

"I don't even want to know. I was just passing by to tell you your sister is walking without any assistance, and we're going to eat in a few minutes. But I realize that you are in... charming company. Where is the Sheep-Prince, though?"

"Hum... how can I put it..." Iordáin muttered.

"Hi, Jamie!” Håvard exclaimed, waving at him.

Jamie almost dropped the chicken he was holding in his arms, and opened his eyes wide:

"You’ve got to be kidding me.”

"The spell has been lifted, and um... could you ask Séamus for some extra clothes?” Iordáin awkwardly explained.

Jamie put a hand on his heart and looked at his beloved hen:

"It's too much to swallow in a few days, isn't it? Our poor minds aren’t made to comprehend this.”

"Jamie, please, I'll explain you everything!”

But Jamie continued to talk to his hen, moving away a bit:

"First Iordáin arrives with this sheep, sleeps with this sheep, then he comes back from the valley with the same sheep that was in fact Prince Håvard who had drunk too much and fallen asleep on the cart and turned into a sheep because priestess Nøkk overdosed him, and now he has become human again and he is making out with Iordáin in the spring.”

"Jamie!” Iordáin cried. "Don't forget the clothes!”

"And now I have to ask Séamus for clothes because the prince is naked, and he’s a 6ft tall blond Viking.”

They watched Jamie disappear further down, and Iordáin chuckled:

"He's going to be all right. Let's just hope he doesn't distort the story too much.”

He then climbed out of the water and wiped his body with the cloth he had left on the rock. Håvard followed him and grabbed the second cloth to dry himself. He then rolled himself up in the fabric, and came to Iordáin to stick his head against his back, and Iordáin turned around amused.

"Anw, in need of affection again?"

"I miss my woolly fleece…”

"Why? Are you cold?"

"No, but you used to stroke it every time I was in your range."

"I miss your wool too. Told you we should have sheared you."

Håvard opened his mouth wide, with shock, and Iordáin tiptoed to put a peck on his upper lip, amused.

"But I like this human-you too."

Iordáin then put on his clothes, and Jamie arrived shortly afterwards with clothes for Håvard. He curtsied, not knowing how to behave in front of the "real" prince, and Håvard laughed.

They then sat down around the thick wooden table, not far from the fire in front of Séamus' house. Once Iordáin was sure his sister was alright, he went to see his sheep, and Håvard sat shyly next to Nøkk, who was shaking her head with disbelief:

"It's incredible," she whispered once again, "the human spirit has overtaken the animal spirit to the point of transforming you back.”

"It's quite a story," Ciara confirmed with a smile, "I've heard of a similar polymorphic spell practiced by the druids in our ancestral lands. I've always been a bit sad that we lost this legacy.”

"If we could avoid this kind of spell in the future, though, that’d be totally fine with me," Håvard protested, which made the rest of them laugh.

"Anyway, what's our sheep-kisser doing?” Jamie grumbled as he put some food on the table. "He's missing the prince's wool so much, that he's off to sleep with his flock, now?”

"I'll go and get him," Håvard said, standing up from the table, "don’t wait for us to start eating.”

Nøkk squinted, but let him go without saying anything. Håvard climbed up the path to Iordáin’s sheepfold, tightening his clothes against his body when he felt the wind refresh him. The further he walked, the more he heard bleats coming from the wooden building where the flock slept and waited before being taken to graze. He approached slowly and opened the door.

"Iordáin? You there?" he asked, slaloming through some sheep.

"Håvard? I'm here, in the corner," Iordáin replied in a low voice, "come and help me, and stay calm.”

Håvard frowned and approached the corner of the sheepfold, and saw Iordáin who was kneeling with a sheep lying on its side near a bucket of water, away from the others.

"W-What's going on? Is it sick?" Håvard asked, crouching down beside him.

"She's giving birth earlier than expected. You’re going to help me.”

"Wait... she's having a baby right now?" Håvard exclaimed. “Like… _right now?!”_

"Yes! Stay calm, I need your help!”

"Me?! Iordáin, I may have been a sheep, but I have absolutely _no_ idea how to do it! Did you forget about the Prince thing?”

"Start by rinsing your hands in the bucket, they need to be as clean as possible in case you need to help me put your hands in her-"

"No, no, no, bad, bad, bad,” Håvard quickly stuttered. “Do you have any idea how clumsy I can be with my hands? Like… seriously!”

"I know you can do it Håvard, just wash your hands and you'll be fine,” Iordáin softly reassured him.

Håvard sighed but complied. He rinsed his hands, trying not to leave the slightest dirt under his nails, and watched Iordáin. The sheep was lying on her side, breathing rapidly, in contractions, and Iordáin kept a comforting hand against her to soothe her, as he was whispering reassuring some "shhhh" "all is well" "attagirl".

"Wh-What should I do now?” Håvard asked.

"We're going to wait a little to see if the limbs come out on their own or if I have to help her. In the meantime, I need you to caress her and relax her, while I check on the progression.”

"Caress. Yes. This I can do."

Håvard moved gently towards the sheep and stroked her head, softly and breathlessly. He put his other hand on her shoulder to help Iordáin keep her on her side, and tried to calm her down as best he could.

Iordáin then began to bring his hands closer to her body, and gently inserted his fingers to help the ewe to relax the space, and make room for the newborn.

"It’s having difficulty getting out. Keep relaxing her and holding her down, I'm going to use her contractions to help the lamb out.”

"O... Ok.”

It only lasted a few seconds, but Håvard stopped breathing all the way. Iordáin grabbed the legs of the baby, and, using the contractions, waited for the right moment, and pulled him out of the ewe. Håvard cried out in a whisper:

" _By the Gods,_ he's covered in blood and… things! Urgh, I think I’m going to be sick.”

"It's normal, Håvard, don’t worry. Keep relaxing her, I think there's a second one coming!”

" _Allfather, have mercy_..."

Iordáin took the first small lamb and put it against the ewe to relax her instincts a little, and the sheep automatically began to lick his head, but the contractions soon began again. Iordáin cautiously looked for the second lamb, to see if the ewe needed some more help or not, but just grinned when he saw the baby coming on its own without assistance. The second lamb appeared and in a last push, the ewe seemed to sigh with relief. Its breathing gradually subsided, as she looked utterly exhausted. Iordáin removed the straw that had stuck to the lamb’s small wet body in the process, and lay it against the ewe, next to its sibling.

"There you go, girl, two healthy babies."

“ _Oh thanks Freyja_ , I’m a dad!” Håvard exclaimed, still stroking the ewe who was now licking her babies.

"You still have sheep instincts, despite the transformation?” Iordáin chuckled.

“It was a joke. That’s honestly one of the scariest things I’ve ever gone through in my whole life.”

“You did good,” Iordáin said with a wink, “thank you.”

“I need to write a song about that.”

“About how you saved the day and helped a sheep to give birth?”

“About how vulnerable and small one can feel in front of nature.”

“Well, at least now you know how babies are born.”

Håvard smiled slightly, and gave the ewe a last caress before pulling his hand away.

“She’s going to be alright?”

“I’m sure she will. She just needs to rest and some calm. Ciara will probably look after her when I take the rest to graze.”

Iordáin brought a small bowl of water to the ewe, and closed the small wooden enclosure that separated her from the others. He took the bucket of water with them, and once outside the sheepfold, he rinsed his arms. Håvard watched him cleaning his scarred hands with the clear water, before wiping them on a piece of cloth.

"What?" Iordáin asked, tilting his head slightly to the side when he realized Håvard was staring at him.

"You’re quite something..." Håvard mumbled as he approached Iordáin. "I may have been the one who got bewitched... but there is clearly something magic about you."

“Nah, I’m just a shepherd who accidentally kidnapped the Prince of the island.”

Håvard took him in his arms and held him tightly.

“Yes, you are. You’re the shepherd who accidentally kidnapped my heart.”

“Aaaanw, you’re so cute.”

“I don’t know how it’s going to work, between my obligations down at the port, and your life in the mountains… but I want you by my sides. Or me by yours.”

“Well… let’s say that I could… go sell the milk and the wool myself, instead of having Séamus or others go down the valley, and… I could _accidentally_ stop at the royal longhouse to discuss… _some matters_ with the crowned prince?”

“Hm… let’s say that I could also wander a bit in the mountains to meet my people and… learn more about… shepherd life? For _princely matters_ , of course.”

“If so, I could offer you to stop in my house whenever you do, but I’m afraid there’d be only one bed…”

“Only one bed, huh?” Håvard mischievously replied. “That sounds like a trope I like.”

Iordáin smiled and Håvard leaned forward to press his lips to his. Iordáin instinctively wrapped his arms around his neck and held him tightly, closing his eyes to the soft sensation of Håvard's lips against his own.

“I love you, Iordáin Ó Treasaigh,” Håvard murmured.

“Well, I love you too, Prince Håvard the Great Sheep.”

_Somewhere in England._

“My Jarl!” exclaimed the skáld “I have a new poem from the Rainbow Island that might interest you!”

“Please, don’t tell me it’s about my son Håvard seeing Odin in his dreams and fighting the _jötnar_ before they could set foot in _Miðgarðr_ again…” Bjorn Haugland sighed, passing a hand over his face.

“No, it’s about Prince Håvard getting turned into a sheep, finding love and making Rainbow island the most peaceful and prosperous land the North Sea has ever known thanks to his two trustworthy seconds.”

The jarl dubiously squinted at the skáld, while Gunnar Haugland, his older son, tapped his father on the back:

“I haven’t heard this one, yet! Håvard being turned into a sheep? Finding love?” he exclaimed with a greasy laugh. “Please, sing us your poem, skáld!”

“Gods, I miss that idiot…” Hilda mumbled, “weren’t we supposed to stop at the Rainbow island anytime soon?”

Bjorn Haugland massaged the bridge of his nose, thinking of the son he had left on that patch of land. A wave of guilt colliding with him.

“Maybe we should pay him a visit, indeed…”

“Come on, skáld!” Gunnar exclaimed. “Sing about our brother!”

THE END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it :) Hope you liked it hehe  
> I'm sorry, I know some of you enjoyed the glimpse at Mute/Smoke which I haven't explored much, but I should soon be working on a small fic about these two, and I wanted to put this AU behind me to make room for other projects like this one :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading this till the end if you did, I hope you enjoyed the ride :'D  
> See you soon ♥


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